Back in the day, Donor and Proofreader Adam thought he might like to be a hairdresser. Quickly, he realized that he had more potential than to simply work with hair all day, everyday. Fortunately, he realized this early enough so he could dip out, but late enough to score a free shirt.

The Hair Academy was a beauty school in Austintown, Ohio, which went bakrupt. The word of mouth about the place was that it was run on shoestring budget and in an unprofessional manner. No wonder it failed. The local Casal Aveda Institute has taken the place of the Hair Academy and is supposed to be a much better place to learn cosmetology.

One might think of this great free shirt as an artifact of failure. I would warn against thinking of it as one because the shirt itself succeeds so well. This is the look of an assertive freedom. The woman knows she is beautiful. The letters are strong. I look better wearing this shirt because I am confident despite wearing an over the top free shirt.

I have not paid anyone to cut my hair for about a decade. Nor has anyone other than I cut my hair in that time. This is mainly because depending on the time in my life, my hair was "styled" either very short or long. My hair is and was all or nothing at all. Even though I do not spend much time worrying about my hair, I still get a good number of compliments in regards to it. I guess I simply just have good hair.

When I was younger, my parents would always take me to this one barber named Rudy who would always bend my ears really hard. I know he's a man with pride, but my parents were paying him money to cut my hair, and not to be a sadist. For futher discussion of Rudy, please see the write-up for the GNC Pro Performance shirt.

Probably the best story that revolves around a barber is when Bailey and I went across his street to go to Flo's. Flo runs her own shop in a room of her house. Flo told me to go into her house to get some pizza while I wait for Bailey to get his hair cut. So I go to front of the house and walk through the open door. Furthermore, I venture into the kitchen and get some pizza. As I go to walk away from the kitchen some girl appears and asks me what I am doing. I tell her that I was getting some pizza, not thinking it was the big of a deal. The way I answered seemed to be insufficient as the girl's face turned a bit more concerned. It was at this point that I realized that she lived there and I was some guy who she was thinking trespassed to steal food. I than told the girl that Flo said it was alright and that Bailey was on the chair as we speak. The atmosphere was far calmer after I explained myself.

If I had wanted to get my hair cut, than there was a time that I could have walked down the street and be able to get it cut four times. GOODTIMES!